


Don't Think

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Series: Battle Creek Unrelated [2]
Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: Biting, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3778327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, Russ isn't going to think. He's going to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory new computer porn. ajfhgh. its3:30 I HONESTLY CAN'T TELL IF THIS IS SHIT OR NOT  
> *THROWS CONFETTI * enjoy your porn. as of first post unedited

* * *

* * *

 

_Don’t think._

If he paused for even a moment to consider what he was doing, Russ would stop, flip his shit, and leave. So he didn’t pause; didn’t hesitate. When Milt’s leg’s hit the desk, Russ kept shoving, pushing until they stumbled into his chair- Milt fell back with a gasp, flushed, eyes wide with surprise and mouth dark from the pressure of Russ’ own mouth against it. He liked the way the agent’s chest rose and fell, breath coming in harsh pants – trying so hard to get caught up, to stay with the program, but this was _Russ_ ’ _game_ , he’d written the damn agenda, and at no point did he intend to let Milt _fricken’_ Chamberlain get his feet back under him.

“ _Russ_ ,” Milt started, pushing himself up from the slump he landed in- Russ shook his head at him, waving a hand a waist level.

“No Milt. Shut up. Just…” He grated out a sigh, and slid onto his lap, letting their clothed erections rub together. Grinned at Milt’s low noise of pleasure. “See? Better things to do then talk.” _Like don’t think. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think._

So instead he threaded his fingers through that infuriatingly perfect hair, tilting his head back to claim the kiss, _not_ thinking of the spike of pure excitement that went up his spine as Milt’s hands settled hungrily on his ass, rocking Russ bodily into the sharp motions of Milt’s hips.

When had he been so flushed? And when did he lose control of this damn scenario; what had started out as Russ’ move was ending up firmly Milt’s, with Russ in his lap in his office after hours, rutting against each other toward release. Milt’s hands were claws on his ass- he’d have goddamn bruises, there wasn’t any way of kidding himself; head tilted back, eyes mostly closed, with Milt’s mouth sucking a mark onto his jawline, Russ’ hands buried in Milt’s hair – lewd noises filled the large room, but at this point they were mostly from Russ.

Teeth sank into his shoulder, and white washed across his eyes.

 

 _That fucking mark is gunna show,_ he thought dimly, and kissed Milt again.


End file.
